After her sister Michelle died from cystic fibrosis, Lisa Zaccaria found a poem that transformed her fear into a life of adventure and purpose.
The Final ICU Visit
Lisa Zaccaria last saw her older sister Michelle in the intensive care unit. Michelle's face was pale, her eyes listless, as beeping monitors surrounded her. 'Did you ever think it would come to this?' Michelle asked. Lisa, stunned, could not answer. Both sisters had been diagnosed with cystic fibrosis as infants, given a life expectancy not beyond elementary school. Despite defying odds into adulthood, Michelle's lungs were failing.
Thick mucus blocked Michelle's airways, causing ragged breaths even with maximum oxygen. As she neared death, Lisa reflected on how fully Michelle had lived—getting her driver's license at 16, flying alone to visit their grandmother, while Lisa held back from such risks.
Michelle's Acceptance
When Michelle needed a ventilator, doctors gave her a 50% chance of survival. Their grandmother offered reassurance, but Michelle knew better. 'You need to accept that I may not survive this,' she told them. 'It's a win/win situation. If I make it, I will be with all of you. If I don't, I will be with family in heaven.'
Michelle died four days later at age 35, two years shy of the predicted life expectancy of 37. She had accepted her fate without fighting a losing battle.
Unspoken Regret
Lisa was haunted by unasked questions, especially whether Michelle forgave her for past cruelty. A couple of years before her death, Michelle had sinus surgery—common for CF patients. She asked their mother and grandmother to be with her. Lisa reacted angrily: 'It's just sinus surgery. It's no big deal. When are you going to grow up?' Michelle's voice quivered: 'You're so mean.' She retreated to her room and slammed the door.
Lisa's tough exterior masked fear. She worried about Michelle but was more concerned about herself. She never apologized for her unkindness, driven by her own terror of the disease.
Living in Fear
Fear shadowed Lisa's life. With CF, diabetes, and other complications, she constantly expected death. A headache meant a brain tumor; a bruise signaled leukemia; tiredness indicated cancer. This paralyzing anxiety stopped her from truly living.
A week after Michelle's death, Lisa stood in her sister's room, afraid to touch her clothes. She opened a desk drawer and found a neatly folded piece of paper containing Linda Ellis's poem 'The Dash.' The poem speaks about the dash on a tombstone between birth and death dates, representing how a person lived.
The last stanza struck Lisa: 'Would you be proud of the things they say / About how you spent YOUR dash?' She realized she was merely existing, not living. Convinced Michelle left the poem for her, she resolved to change.
Parasailing Over Key Largo
In Key Largo Bay, Lisa prepared to parasail. The technician strapped her into a harness, promising a 99.9% safety rating. At 400 feet high, she feared being the 0.1% who fell. But she carried 'The Dash' poem in her pocket.
As she rose, weightless and calm, she welcomed the quiet. 'Michelle passed away 16 years ago,' Lisa writes. 'Before her death, I had built a cocoon... After she died and I found the poem, I was propelled by adventure.'
Today, doctors say the median survival age for CF patients is 66, thanks to new medications. But a cold, flu, or COVID could still jeopardize her life. Regardless, Lisa continues to live without regret. She imagines Michelle's spirit flying with her above the bay, smiling proudly.
Lisa Zaccaria is a writer and founding member of Prose Playground Writing Community, working on a memoir about living with multiple chronic illnesses. Now 48, she has lived 36 years longer than doctors first predicted.
